Latest news with #Hiroshige
The Star
13-07-2025
- The Star
The travel writer's dilemma: Share or gatekeep?
AS soon as a secret gets widely distributed, it's a secret no longer. That 'hidden treasure' I'm so eager to tell you about becomes a lot less hidden, and less of a treasure, the moment I share it. What's a travel writer to do? The very premise of the job is to tell you about attractive possibilities that you might not otherwise know about. But as those little-known jewels become better known, readers grow understandably indignant (that quiet and reasonably priced cafe is suddenly unquiet and unreasonably priced), while locals wonder how much to curse the onslaught of visitors and how much to try to make the most of them. I feel this conundrum ever more painfully because I have chosen to base myself for 37 years around the Japanese city of Kyoto. My first 30 years here, I grieved because nobody I knew ever wanted to visit. Now I mourn because everyone seems to be on their way here. Each month I receive dozens of messages – from friends, from readers, from complete strangers – asking me to tell them about out-of-the-way Japanese wonders that nobody else knows about. I understand the impulse. More than 75 million people visited Kyoto prefecture in 2023 and most of them seemed to be walking along the narrow, once-noiseless paths that lead magically up to Kiyomizu temple at the same time. Of course, a longtime travel writer knows how to come up with diversions. I'll often recommend my second-favourite izakaya, in the same spirit as I tell friends who are thinking of Nepal that they may want to consider the less-developed Himalayan region of Ladakh, or those hurrying toward Kyoto to try quiet and cultured Kanazawa, two hours away, instead. I will share my favourite secret with a friend and offer a stranger something more generic. Besides, I know that a traveller's real joy comes in discovering a hidden treasure for herself; at best my recommendation may send her along some adjacent path, to somewhere I've never heard about. Traveling in time But the abiding hope of travel is that beauty is resilient. Last year I happened to spend three nights in Kyoto right after flying in from California. Every morning I got out of bed at 3.15am and slipped out the door five minutes later (11.20am in my Californian mind and stomach). The streets were deserted, save for a handful of Japanese kids reeling home after a long night out. I came to know the friendly South Asian men working at the convenience store where I stopped every morning to buy a bottle of hot milk tea and a doughnut. Best of all, I was able to walk up those heart-stopping pilgrims' paths toward Kiyomizu and have them entirely to myself. As the sky turned indigo an hour later – twilight in reverse – I felt myself wandering alone through a Hiroshige print. In time, some locals began to emerge, to walk their dogs or to enjoy the early-morning freshness. Yet, to a startling degree, I was back in the same silent, pristine world that awaited me when I quit my 25th-floor office in New York City to live in a simple temple in this neighbourhood 37 years ago. Kyoto has weathered every kind of change in its 1,230 years of history, and I'm often reminded that thousands can walk around Notre Dame every day and few come away disappointed. Nonetheless, the paradox at the heart of sharing little-known 'secrets' has grown exponentially more intense over the past two decades. The writer says he feels this paradox ever more painfully because he has chosen to base himself for 37 years around Kyoto. — Simon Bailly/The New York Times When I first began writing about foreign wonders, I could extol the hidden jewel known as the Lotus Café in Ubud because few people would ever read my account and even fewer would dream, in 1988, of flying to Bali. Now a mention of a 'secret' bar in Barcelona may reach 11 million readers in every corner of the planet, many of whom are on their way to Spain very soon – or at least know of others who will be. Long lines form outside that Kyoto gyoza joint down the road, whose main claim to fame used to be that it was the haunt of locals. Now, those same locals can't get into the place that has been their second home for decades. And quite a few of those 11 million readers complain that this 'special tip' isn't so special at all. No reviewer of books or movies faces this predicament, and if an overlooked novel or documentary suddenly wins recognition, most of us rejoice. But destinations are fragile, on several fronts – many can't bear the weight of thousands. While sailing around Antarctica, even as I marvelled at its otherworldly beauty, I was selfishly glad that not many visitors are permitted there, so precarious is its environment. Sometimes, therefore, I simply delight in the fact that my tastes are not the same as everybody else's. After I wrote about that comfortable hotel on the beach in war-torn Yemen in 2001 – and that delectable pizza-restaurant I discovered in the arts centre in Tehran, Iran, in 2013 – I never heard from any reader who had been to either, let alone found them overcrowded. When I hold forth on the delights of wandering around Singapore at 3am and seeing that well-behaved city's unofficial side – its subconscious, as it were – I'm reminded that not many fly across the globe in search of such arcane pleasures. At other times, I feel that anyone who has the enterprise and stamina to get to one of my 'secret' suggestions has earned the payoff. Last summer I bumped across 13 miles of barely paved road, inching at times along a narrow path above a four-story plunge, to arrive at the Christ in the Desert monastery near Abiquiu, in New Mexico. It's a site that few visitors will forget, yet happily one that not many will ever get to, as rains render the roads impassable, and the end of the path discloses little more than a simple church, a cluster of small rooms and a desert silence. Earlier this year, in fact, I published a book about another Benedictine monastery, in California, where I have been staying regularly since 1991. Friends worried that my descriptions might endanger the very air of seclusion and quiet that I was hymning. Yet I had few such fears. Over more than a hundred visits, I've seen the monks build new trailers, expand their facilities, bring many rooms up-to-date. Nothing seems to dent the silence or the radiance. There's still room for only around 20 visitors at a time and I'm convinced that almost anyone who goes will find the peace she's seeking, while also bringing happiness to the monks (who need to raise US$3,000 a day just to keep their community alive). The sweetest secrets Here in Japan, my neighbours are of two minds about whether they want to have their secrets divulged or not. On the one hand, older citizens in Kyoto can no longer find space on the local bus because so many visitors are crowding in to visit that back street ramen place they've seen on TikTok. On the other, in a country whose economy has been struggling for 30 years, any revenue is welcome. Maybe I should just advise readers where not to go (The 405 freeway in Los Angeles between 7am and 10pm on any day for one). Or urge them toward overlooked places that sadly seem likely to remain overlooked: Oman and Ethiopia and Pittsburgh, all of which have afforded me great joy, again and again. Or maybe I should just stick to fiction. When I set a scene in a novel inside that enchanting woody inn in California where there are no locks on the doors, and the sound of a rushing creek sweetens your night, some readers will smile with recognition – they know the place – while others will simply try to find a similarly atmospheric location of their own. Life offers few greater pleasures than that of passing on your enthusiasms and secret discoveries. But the greatest pleasure of all may be to uncover something that no one else has mentioned. — ©2025 The New York Times Company This was originally published by The New York Times.
The Mainichi
01-06-2025
- General
- The Mainichi
Edging Toward Japan: The Japanese discovery of the colour blue
I seem to recall some years ago reading a short story by Haruki Murakami calling "Losing Blue" ("Ao ga Kieru"). If memory serves, this describes a man waking up one morning to discover, to his sadness, that the colour blue has completely vanished from the world, though nobody else apart from him appears to have noticed. The story seemed to me like quite a clever allegory for so many things that slip away from us in the modern world without anyone apparently realising. However, it's not so much losing the colour blue, but discovering it in the first place that has been on my mind recently. In July last year I was at an exhibition at the auction house Sotheby's in London and got to admire up close some original prints by Hokusai and Hiroshige. We are so used to images of Hokusai's famous depiction of "The Great Wave" or his blue-infused vision of Mount Fuji that we tend to think of the "blueyness" of this art as quintessentially Japanese. Yet a particular set of historical circumstances, and international influences, helped to produce this iconic art. A clampdown by the Japanese government on the depictions of the lusty pleasure quarters so beloved by ukiyo-e artists of the 18th century like Harunobu and Utamaro forced 19th century artists like Hokusai and Hiroshige to devote their attention to landscape portraiture instead. And crucially, they were suddenly given access to a vibrantly new colour pigment, Prussian Blue, produced in the factories of Northern Europe -- a world until then entirely closed to them. The combination of Japanese artists having their eyes turned towards previously ignored subjects and having a newly imported colour in which to paint them helped produce such iconic, visually arresting artworks. But then, the story of Japan's interaction with the colour blue has always been a rather peculiar one. One of the first things any student of elementary Japanese learns is that the word for "blue" in Japanese is "ao," but that this word actually means "blue or green." I must confess that, for long decades, I did not understand this. How could a word mean both blue and green? This seemed to me equivalent to having a word that meant "square or circular" i.e. very confusing about the meaning it is trying to convey. What makes this even more baffling is that the Japanese language also has a perfectly clear and common word for "green" ("midori"). So why on Earth would you not just have a word for "blue" ("ao") without bringing in the possibility that what you are talking about is not blue at all, but green? In terms of everyday usage, "ao" does indeed mean for most of the time "blue," but just when you think you can ignore the confusing "...or green" part of its meaning, it turns out that "green" things, which could be called "midori," are also called "ao." The most common example of this is the green of a traffic light, which is "ao," not "midori." As if all this isn't confusing enough, the expression for "deep green," the type of green you see when walking through summer woods for example, is "ao ao shita midori," which literally means "blue blue green." Why can't Japan keep "blue" and "green" apart? To answer that question, you have to think about the way we conceptualize colour in the world. We tend to think it natural to clearly differentiate the colours in a light spectrum as red, orange, yellow, green, blue, indigo, violet etc. But there is no particular reason why a specific band of the light spectrum is intrinsically obvious to us a definitive colour. Both wider and narrower bands of colour on the light spectrum might appear to us as recognizable colours depending on our associations with them. Most colours are obvious to us by connection with objects in the real world: blood is red; the sun is yellow. Indeed, many colours in Japanese are denoted by connection to real world objects. Grey is "rat-coloured" (nezumi-iro) or "ash-coloured" (hai-iro), while brown is "tea-coloured" (cha-iro). The problem with blue is that there are not many solid objects in the world that we can actually associate with blue. The two things people immediately think when you mention "blue" are the sky and the sea, but both of these are things you cannot grasp and whose colour are often a will-o-the-wisp of illusion. Pour some of that "blue" sea into a glass and it suddenly turns out to be colourless. The sky meanwhile is just empty air. With no solid object of fixed colour against which to correlate, "blue" has historically had the capacity to range loosely over the colour spectrum. In the case of Japan, "ao" denoted a range of blue and green, and retained that meaning even after the introduction of the word "midori" for green in the Heian Period. Japan is by no means unique in its often confusing approach to the colour "blue." In his book, "The World According to Colour", the art historian James Fox remarks how when European nations came into first contact with many ancient cultures -- from Pacific Islanders to the bushmen of southern Africa -- during the 19th century, they were baffled by the fact that so many of them seemed to have difficulty discerning exactly what "blue" was. Theories even abounded that they might even be colour blind to "blue." It's now more generally accepted that the decisive factor is linguistic and nearly all civilizations define "blue" at a later stage than other colours such as red, white and green. As the Victorian Prime Minister William Gladstone observed, Homer frequently refers to the "wine-dark sea" and yet never once calls either the sea or the sky "blue." Is this because Homer was -- as tradition has it -- blind or is it because there was simply no precise concept of "blue" amongst the Greeks of his time? We live in a world in which we often pessimistically contemplate, like Haruki Murakami's protagonist, how dangerously close we are to losing precious things from the world. But we sometimes forget just how recently even something as blindingly obvious as the colour blue fully entered our field of vision. When you look again at those intensely redolent blues of Hokusai's and Hiroshige's prints -- of Great Waves of Blue surging over you or a Mount Fuji of Blue soaring in your imagination -- you gain some sense of what it must have felt like to have the scales taken from your eyes and a primary colour to be transmitted to your senses in overwhelming Technicolor magnificence for the first time. There is seeing and then there is seeing. And there is always the potential of waking up one morning and perceiving the hues and texture of the world in a thrilling new way. @DamianFlanagan (This is Part 60 of a series) In this column, Damian Flanagan, a researcher in Japanese literature, ponders about Japanese culture as he travels back and forth between Japan and Britain. Profile: Damian Flanagan is an author and critic born in Britain in 1969. He studied in Tokyo and Kyoto between 1989 and 1990 while a student at Cambridge University. He was engaged in research activities at Kobe University from 1993 through 1999. After taking the master's and doctoral courses in Japanese literature, he earned a Ph.D. in 2000. He is now based in both Nishinomiya, Hyogo Prefecture, and Manchester. He is the author of "Natsume Soseki: Superstar of World Literature" (Sekai Bungaku no superstar Natsume Soseki).
Hypebeast
26-05-2025
- Entertainment
- Hypebeast
BAPE Teams up With the Van Gogh Museum on Limited Edition Capsule
Summary BAPEand theVan Gogh Museumcelebrate the life story and artworks of the legendary painterVincent Van Gogh. The collaboration brings the fine art to the forefront of streetwear with a vibrant tribute to the iconic Dutch artist and the Japanese brand. Fusing BAPE's distinctive aesthetic with Van Gogh's legendary artistry, the collection features iconic works such as Self-Portrait in a Gray Felt Hat' (1887), 'Blooming Plum Orchard (copy of Hiroshige's work)' (1887), 'Yellow House' (1888), 'Sunflowers' (1889), 'Blooming Almonds' (1890) and 'Wheat Field with Crows' (1890) seamlessly integrated in BAPE's signature design like the APE HEAD and more. The iconic icon 'APE HEAD' is used as a canvas to create T-shirts that depict the aforementioned six works in chronological order. The famous Shark Hoodie is reimagined with Van Gogh's artistic elements, alongside a new 'OIL PAINTING CAMO' pattern that visually translates his brushstrokes into BAPE's iconic camouflage. The collection also incorporates heartfelt excerpts from Van Gogh's letters to his brother Theo, adding a personal and profound touch. The collection features t-shirts, long-sleeve t-shirts, crew neck sweatshirts alongside the Shark Full Zip Hoodies. The collection releases on May 31online.
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Evening Standard
14-05-2025
- Entertainment
- Evening Standard
19th Century Japanese artist takes over the Outernet
The installation coincides with the recent opening of the Museum's major new exhibition, Hiroshige: artist of the open road which celebrates the magisterial artistry and legacy of Hiroshige, which takes visitors on a journey through the landscapes and cityscapes of Edo-period Japan. Now Hiroshige's vision will be transformed into a dynamic experience that brings his world to life for an even broader audience.
Forbes
13-05-2025
- Entertainment
- Forbes
5 London Exhibitions To See This Summer At National Gallery, The Wallace Collection, British Museum, Sketch & Camden Arts Projects
Evening View of the Eight Scenic Spots of Kanazawa in Musashi Province,1857 By Utagawa Hiroshige (1797—1858) Colour-woodblock print triptych Collection of Alan Medaugh © Alan Medaugh From the timeless prints of Japanese master Hiroshige to bold new works by Turner Prize winners Grayson Perry and Martin Creed, and a whimsical floral tribute to literary icon Jane Austen—London's summer exhibitions offer something for every art lover. London's art scene is flourishing this summer with a diverse array of exhibitions that blend tradition, innovation, and immersive experiences. Here are five must-see exhibitions to add to your cultural calendar. These exhibitions offer a rich tapestry of artistic experiences, from classical masterpieces to conceptual art via flowers, neons, installations, ceramics and even balloons. Whether you're a long-time art enthusiast or a newcomer, London's summer art scene provides a wealth of opportunities to explore and enjoy. Reopening of the Sainsbury Wing at The National Gallery (reopened on May 10th, 2025). Gallery 32 After Refurbishment © The National Gallery, London After a two-year transformation, the National Gallery's Sainsbury Wing has reopened, unveiling a thoughtfully revitalized space that enhances both the physical and aesthetic experience of one of London's most treasured cultural institutions. Led by acclaimed architect Annabelle Selldorf, the renovation has focused on improving accessibility, optimizing natural light, and refining the layout to better showcase the gallery's world-class collection of early Renaissance art. The result is a serene, luminous environment that invites deeper contemplation and connection with the works on display. The reopening of the National Gallery's newly revamped main entrance marks a significant milestone in the Gallery's 200th anniversary celebrations. Designed by New York-based Selldorf Architects in collaboration with heritage architects Purcell, the renovations aim to create a more inviting and improved experience for the National Gallery's millions of visitors. The National Gallery was founded in 1824 by Parliament to house the nation's collection of paintings in the Western European tradition from the late 13th to the early 20th century. The collection is one of the best in the world and includes works by Bellini, Cezanne, Degas, Leonardo, Monet, Raphael, Rembrandt, Renoir, Rubens, Titian, Turner, Van Dyck, Van Gogh and Velázquez. Since the thoughtful rehang and architectural refresh there is a feeling of more space and light in the galleries, and highlights of the collection such as Caravaggio's The Supper at Emaus, Van Gogh's Sunflowers and Seurat's Bathers at Asnières and seem to be given more chance to shine. Central to the reopening is a sensitive yet striking rehang of the collection, offering a fresh perspective on some of the gallery's most iconic masterpieces. Visitors are once again able to encounter the luminous calm of Piero della Francesca's Baptism of Christ and the dynamic intensity of Paolo Uccello's The Battle of San Romano in a setting that honors their historical significance while enhancing their visual impact. The reimagined Sainsbury Wing not only celebrates the enduring power of these early Renaissance works but also reaffirms the National Gallery's commitment to accessibility, innovation, and timeless beauty. Hiroshige: Artist of the Open Road at the British Museum (until September 7th, 2025). The Plum Garden at Kameido from 100 Famous Views of Edo, 1857 By Utagawa Hiroshige (1797—1858) Colour-woodblock print Collection of Alan Medaugh © Alan Medaugh. Photography by Matsuba Ryōko The British Museum presents its first-ever exhibition dedicated to Utagawa Hiroshige, one of Japan's most revered artists, in Hiroshige: Artist of the Open Road—the first major London show on his work in 25 years. Bringing together over 120 works, the exhibition celebrates Hiroshige's poetic and pioneering visions of nature, travel, and daily life in Edo-period Japan. It features an extraordinary selection of prints, paintings, sketches, and books, including 35 rare pieces gifted by renowned American collector Alan Medaugh, alongside 82 additional works on loan from his collection. Many of the featured prints are being displayed publicly for the first time, with some considered the only known examples in existence. Spanning a 40-year career that unfolded during the transformative final decades of the Edo period, Hiroshige's work offered solace and beauty to a society on the brink of change. His celebrated landscape series, such as The Fifty-three Stations of the Tōkaidō and One Hundred Famous Views of Edo, capture a lyrical relationship between people and place, expressed through subtle colour, elegant composition, and a deep sensitivity to the rhythms of nature and travel. Whether depicting bustling city scenes, quiet temples, or flowering birds, Hiroshige's prints spoke to a broad audience—creating accessible art that crossed class boundaries and elevated everyday life. This landmark exhibition also explores Hiroshige's enduring global influence, tracing his impact on 19th- and 20th-century Western artists such as Van Gogh and Whistler, and highlighting his continued relevance to contemporary figures like Julian Opie. From his innovative perspectives and refined use of colour to the poetic calligraphy that graces his bird-and-flower prints, Hiroshige's legacy is one of timeless elegance and artistic generosity. A highlight of the exhibition is a delicate print once owned by Vincent Van Gogh titled The Plum Garden at Kameido. In 1887 van Gogh made a copy of it, inspired by its unexpectedly red sky and innovative composition. Grayson Perry: Delusions of Grandeur at The Wallace Collection (until October 26th, 2025). Grayson Perry: Delusions of Grandeur at the Wallace Collection.© Trustees of the Wallace Collection. Grayson Perry's hit lockdown TV Show–Grayson's Art Club–and his Knighthood in 2023, appear to have cemented his status as a National Treasure. When he won the Turner Prize in 2003 for his satirical and thoroughly modern take on pottery and presented his alter ego 'Claire' to the world, he was something of a controversial figure. Fast forward to 2025 and Sir Grayson Perry is a firm fixture of contemporary culture and a globally acclaimed artist. He celebrated his 65th birthday with a major solo exhibition at The Wallace Collection in London. Delusions of Grandeur, a richly imagined exhibition by Grayson Perry at The Wallace Collection, brings together over forty newly forged works, set in dialogue with the timeless treasures of the museum's historic halls. With his signature blend of mischief and insight, Perry probes the elusive ideals of authenticity, the allure of perfection, and the ever-shifting identity of the artist. In a whimsical yet poignant exploration, Perry draws inspiration from the realm of Outsider Art, sparked by the discovery that visionary artist Madge Gill (1882–1961) once exhibited within these very walls, in 1942. Her spirit finds companionship here in the haunting works of Aloïse Corbaz, another luminary of the untrained imagination. From this fascination with raw, intuitive creativity—and its entwinement with mental vulnerability—emerges Shirley Smith, Perry's invented alter ego. Shirley is cast as a destitute East End woman, shaped by hardship and time spent in psychiatric care, where art became both refuge and revelation. Through Shirley's eyes, Perry reframes the collection, weaving a tale that is both tender and trenchant. Vases whisper with satire, tapestries teem with hidden truths, furniture and sculpture alike bear the mark of Perry's irreverent grace. In Delusions of Grandeur, the museum becomes not just a sanctuary of beauty, but a stage for storytelling—wry, fearless, and deeply human. A Floral Chapter – Celebrating 250 Years of Jane Austen at Sketch London (throughout Summer 2025). Sketch In Bloom © Mark Cocksedge In celebration of the 250th anniversary of Jane Austen's birth, Sketch—London's iconic dining and arts destination—has unveiled Sketch in Bloom, a breathtaking floral-themed exhibition that reimagines its whimsical interiors through the lens of Austen's literary world. Collaborating with a visionary garden designer and muralist, the venue has been transformed into a Regency-inspired dreamscape, where floral installations entwine with period décor and art drawn from the pages of Austen's beloved novels. From the moment visitors pass beneath a magnificent arch of blossoms at the entrance, they are transported into an enchanted realm echoing the elegance, wit, and romance of Austen's characters. Timed to bloom just ahead of the Chelsea Flower Show, this immersive experience offers a fresh, fragrant homage to Austen's enduring legacy—blending literature, design, and botanical beauty in true Sketch style. The installation was curated by Creative Director and Art Curator Milly Wright and is a creative collaboration between Lucy Vail Floristry, Ricky Paul, and Rob Van Helden, each infusing the space with their distinct artistic flair. Lucy Vail's contribution, Pastoral Inspiration, offered a floral reinterpretation of Alfred Sisley's The Small Meadows in Spring, while Rob Van Helden transformed the Lecture Room with a sweeping wisteria tree and a delicate miniature writing desk. A whimsical touch to the exhibition can be found in The Pods–Sketch London's iconic pod-shaped space age toilets– where Ricky Paul has created a moss topiary statue of Jane Austen. Meanwhile, muralist Meg Boscowen brought Austen's world to life with a hand-painted British countryside scene, featuring the iconic Mr. Darcy rendered in soft Regency hues. Martin Creed: Everything Is Going To Be Alright at Camden Arts Projects (Until 29th June, 2025). Martin Creed, Work No. 3891 Half the air in a given space (2025), photo credit Deniz Guzel Camden Arts Projects opened with an uplifting exhibition–Everything is Going to Be Alright–by Turner Prize-winning artist Martin Creed. This marks a significant milestone for the newly established Camden Arts Projects, a non-profit contemporary arts initiative housed in a former church. Creed's installation begins with the eponymous neon sign adorning the building's façade, setting a tone of optimism and playfulness. Inside, the space is transformed into a conceptual art version of a child's ball pit, filled with hundreds of white balloons, inviting visitors to engage with the work physically and emotionally. Curated by film maker and Curator Hala Matar, Everything Is Going to Be Alright features a 12-metre neon artwork on the building's façade which lends the exhibition its title, while the balloon installation inside recreates Creed's conceptual installation Work No. 3891 Half The Air In a Given Space, which was first shown in London in 2014. Known for his minimalist and conceptual approach, Creed's work often explores the boundaries between art and everyday life. In this exhibition, he continues his exploration of space and perception, encouraging visitors to experience art in an immersive and interactive manner. Everything is Going to Be Alright offers a fresh perspective on contemporary art, blending humor and profundity to create an engaging environment that resonates with audiences of all ages. Admission to the exhibition is free, reflecting Camden Arts Projects' commitment to accessibility and community engagement.
